


He's a Little Bit Country

by JessJesstheBest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Punk, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Asexual Character, Castiel has tattoos piercings and wears makeup, Dean wears a cowboy hat, Human AU, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Planned Parenthood, a little preachy?, ace!cas, discord made me do it, how the FUCK did I miss that tag upon first posting????, lots of talk about sex, that should be its own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: "Tell me what we’re doing here today, Clarence.”Castiel shifted on his feet, moodily, but answered her in a grumble. “We’re putting on a concert benefit for Planned Parenthood.”“Right! And why is that?”“Because this country is run by a monster who is trying to take away the reproductive rights of women and we need to raise money to continue to fund our program which helps women have agency in their own bodies."Or the one where Castiel, as part of planned parenthood, puts on a joint punk and country benefit concert where he meets Dean Winchester, the handsome country enthusiast who is also an asshole.





	He's a Little Bit Country

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a thing.  
The idea fully came from Crypto in the [Profound Bond Discord](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) I just kind of.... got carried away with it.

  
  
  
  


“This is by far the weirdest musical lineup I have ever seen…”

Meg snorted, reaching as far as she could on her ladder to make sure the sign was hanging straight. “You’ve never been to Bonnaroo, have you?”

Castiel hummed, tilting his head in allowance. He hadn’t ever been to Bonnaroo but he had heard about it. Any festival that had Phish on one stage and Cardi B on another was definitely going to be weirder than anything they were putting on.

But still…

“I guess it’s just weird to me because country music is usually so insular,” Castiel continued, eyes up at Meg where she was at the top of the ladder he was holding for her. “I mean, they have their own awards show. The regular Grammys and AMA aren’t good enough for them. They need special awards for their special jesus and banjo music.”

Meg looked down at him with a reproachful frown but her eyes danced with laughter. “Clarence, we talked about this. This is a unity concert. You can’t be mean to literally half of the guests.”

Castiel huffed grumpily. “Still not sure why we even _ needed _–”

Meg groaned, and climbed down off the ladder. She reached up to clap both her hands on his shoulders. She was normally much shorter than him but she was wearing her platform combat boots for today’s event so her eyes were level with his nose.

“Tell me what we’re doing here today, Clarence.”

Castiel shifted on his feet, moodily, but answered her in a grumble. “We’re putting on a concert benefit for Planned Parenthood.”

“Right! And why is that?”

“Because this country is run by a monster who is trying to take away the reproductive rights of women and we need to raise money to continue to fund our program which helps women have agency in their own bodies.”

She tweaked his nose. “Got it, bud!” Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little, even at the diminutive gesture. “And how do we get those funds in this podunk ass college town?”

“Colleges are liberal,” Castiel argued, his jaw stiff. 

Meg flicked his ear. “No no no. We went over this. College students do not have the kind of money we need. We need to appeal to the townies. What do townies like?”

Cas ducked his head, the toe of his own combat boot grinding into the gravel. “Country music.”

“Theeeere ya go.” Meg patted him on the cheek. He couldn’t help but preen a little at the praise, even if he wouldn’t let Meg know it. “Besides!” she continued. “A lot of country music is _ totally _ anti-establishment. Half the songs are about the labor movement! I’ve told you about the Welsh miners uniting with the queer community and–”

“Yes, yes, the Dulais valley. You cry every time you tell me about it.”

Meg nodded, her eyes, indeed, watery. “It’s just so _ moving _.”

Castiel chuckled, bringing up his own hands to pat Meg on the cheek, much like she had. “Yes, I believe it is. And I know you’re right.” He sighed. “I’m just having trouble accepting that I’ll have to suffer through a night with the type of people I spent all of my teen years staying away from.”

Meg pouted at him, bringing him in close so she could rub his back. “I know, sweetie. Revolution demands we make ourselves uncomfortable. That’s just how it is.” She pulled back and smiled at him. “But don’t worry: I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

Castiel blushed, rolling his eyes. “I know what you’re doing,” he told her. “And your dominatrix powers won’t work on me. I’m asexual, remember?”

Meg laughed, reaching up to tweak his nose again. “They already _ have _ worked, Clarence. And you know as well as I do that domming doesn’t have to be sexual. Look at how well I just calmed you down.”

Castiel frowned petulantly but kept himself tucked to her side. She laughed at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“They don’t pay me the big bucks to be a _ shitty _ Dominatrix, Clarence.”

“They don’t pay you for that at all, anymore,” Cas pointed out. “You’re paid to organize this shit now.”

“Yeah, but it _ did _ pay for these boots.” She grinned down at her platformed boots. The buckles were rose gold. “Well, indirectly. One of my clients bought them for me.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose. He was all about free sexual expression but whenever Meg brought up whatever the Allos™ got up to, it still skeeved him out.

“Right,” he said. She grinned at him, a little evilly. He pulled away from her, rolling his eyes again, and fixed his denim vest. It was his only concession to the theme: adding blue denim to his outfit. The arm holes were frayed, it was studded, and there were more patches and safety pins visible than fabric, but it was still a denim vest.

Meg had made no concessions to the theme. She still wore her same fishnets, connecting the top of her boots to the bottom of her cuffed denim shorts. She wore a torn Pussy Riot crop top under a torn leather jacket. Her hair was in a top knot, showing off the severe undercut and the anarchy symbol tattooed on the back of her neck.

She looked great. Not exactly what one would expect from a community youth organizer – even one for Planned Parenthood – but really great.

As he looked her over, she was looking at him, evil smirk still on her face.

“For someone who’s here to bitch about half of the festival’s attendees, you sure do look like you’re dressing to impress…”

Castiel scowled, his lip ring poking out with his bottom lip.

He had dressed mindfully, not knowing what would go best with the denim vest as he rarely wore it out (he liked tank tops that could show off his massive back tattoo) so it did kind of look like he was trying harder than normal.

He’d settled on torn black skinny jeans (obviously, even if it was August) and a purple muscle tee cropped to just below his belly button under the vest. The shirt also repped iconic queer punk band, The Queers, because, although he was following theme, he didn’t want anyone to mistake him for a heterosexual.

“Who would I impress with this outfit?” Castiel asked, deliberately poking his finger through a hole in the collar of his shirt.

“Not just the outfit,” Meg said, crossing her arms. “You’ve got your stars on today.”

Castiel touched the corner of his eye, reflexively. “I do these every day.”

“But not on your _ hands. _”

Castiel grimaced. He had, in fact, stenciled stars onto the backs of his hands that morning. They went from his fingers and trailed halfway up his forearms.

It was, admittedly, a lot for an event he said he hadn’t cared about.

“I got carried away…” he said, turning his hands over to look at the pattern. He did really like the way it looked. Maybe he’d get something tattooed in this pattern… “I feel weird whenever you can’t see my back tattoo. I think I tried to compensate.”

Meg laughed, bringing her hand up to trace over the stars across Cas’s cheekbone. “I like the asymmetry today,” she told him, lightly tapping at the triangle of stars next to his left eye. The right eye only had one.

“Thank you,” he said, before grabbing her hand and gently pulling it away. “But please don’t smudge them. It’s just eyeshadow.”

Meg laughed again, bringing her hands back to herself. Her phone rang.

“Yeah,” she answered it, eyes narrowing in preparation. She was in charge of the whole event: she’d been putting out a lot of fires.

He watched her nod and hum and roll her eyes occasionally before sighing and hanging up. “I gotta take this. You mind being the welcoming committee?”

Castiel grimaced. He was said to be many things, but welcoming was not one of them.

“I know, sugar,” Meg said in response to his face, scrunching her nose in sympathy. “But you don’t have to do anything but direct people to the stage and thank them for coming.”

Castiel grunted, still scowling, but Meg took that for the acceptance it was. She smirked, kissing him on the cheek, and walking backstage to figure out whatever needed figuring out.

Castiel sighed, turning toward the fence that separated the audience bit of field from the regular, non-audience bit of field. There was a reason the townies liked country music: the university was in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Fields were the cheapest and easiest venue for a concert.

There was a $10 recommended donation for entry but in practice it was ‘pay what you can.’ The vendors, too, were contributing a portion of their proceeds to Planned Parenthood, so even if most guests paid less than $10, they were still netting a decent amount, especially considering the crowd slowly filtering in through the gate.

Castiel was happy on Meg’s behalf about the turnout but the masses of people converging on him definitely stressed him out.

“Hi!”

Castiel spun, startled, to see a chipper-looking redhead in a flannel shirt smiling up at him.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi!” she said again, smiling wider now that he’d returned her greeting. “Are you with Planned Parenthood?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Castiel said, forcing himself to smile. “Sorry, the concert’s going to start over that way–”

“Oh, no, I know. I wanted to ask you something else. I heard Maddie and Tae were coming?”

Castiel frowned, trying to think of who Maddie and Tae could be.

The redhead must have taken Castiel’s frown as a denial. Her face fell. “They’re not coming? But they would be perfect–!”

“Charlie no, come on,” said a man standing just behind Charlie that Castiel hadn’t noticed. “They suck so much. They’re barely even country.”

Castiel frowned harder, not caring for his tone. He had given her the hint he’d needed though: Maddie and Tae = country artists.

“Actually, they will be performing tonight,” Castiel said, casting a dark look at the man. He too was wearing flannel, though he’d taken it a step further and also put on a cowboy hat. Castiel fought not to roll his eyes before turning back to the girl. “When we reached out to them, they were very excited to support our message, being huge feminists and all.”

The girl, Charlie, smiled brightly again. “I know! They’re awesome.”

The guy snorted behind her. Castiel turned to him again, murder in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with strong women spreading the word of feminism? If so, you are definitely at the wrong event.”

Cowboy Hat did roll his eyes, clearly not having the same restraint as Castiel. “Come on, man, it’s not about that. They’re just glorified pop stars pretending to be country.”

“Well I should hope so,” Castiel said coldly. “What you call ‘real’ country music is a misogynist institution that fights to maintain the white-centric heteronormative status quo of the south. Every person who likes ‘real’ country is a backwoods hick who voted for Trump and has never even met a gay person in their life."

Charlie sucked in some air through her teeth. “Okay, maybe we–”

“No, Charlie, let him talk.” The guy pulled his shoulders back and crossed his arms and it was at this point that Cas realized if his combat boots didn’t have a slight heel, this man would be taller than him. “I want to hear more about what this narrow-minded asshole thinks of country music. I’d love to get his opinion on Mellencamp, Garth Brooks, Willie Nelson. You know – _ those _ backwoods hicks.”

Castiel scowled. He didn’t know anything about any of those artists. was confused as to why this guy would bring them up.

“What? Nothing to say to that? I’m sure you’ve got something to say about the Dixie Chicks.”

“Yes,” Castiel jumped on this, grinning that he had something to say about it. “They’re performing tonight! They’re always looking for chances to perform since being _ blacklisted _ from the country community after speaking out against–”

“George W. Bush, I know,” the man said, rolling his eyes again. “You don’t get bonus points for knowing about one of the hottest controversies in music history.”

“I don’t need your fucking bonus points,” Castiel spat, “I was making a point that the _ industry _ of country music rejects anything that might be at all _ progressive _.”

“Well, we weren’t talking about the fucking _ industry _,” the guy spat right back, taking a step toward Castiel. Behind him, Charlie grabbed his arm with a reproachful, ‘Dean’ 

“You think the punk industry is free from sin? What about the Casualties and Front Porch Step? Pwr Bttm? How do you defend punk fans defending sexual assault?”

Castiel felt his face heat up in anger and embarrassment. He, of course, _ knew _ about the sexual assault scandals by those bands but, seeing as he and his friends soundly rejected bands once they showed to be harboring abusers, he didn’t think about them much.

It still begged the question, “Where are you pulling these facts from?”

The guy – Dean – grinned viciously. “I’m a sociology major with a minor in music. Just because I've lived in one town my whole life doesn't make me an idiot. I know at least TWO gay people.” He reached behind him for Charlie’s arm and pulled her forward. “Meet Charlie. Lesbian and my best friend.”

Charlie looked embarrassed, either on behalf of her friend, Castiel, or herself, but she smiled and reached a hand forward to shake Castiel’s.

Castiel shook it, dully. “Castiel.”

“Dean,” the guy said, smugly, not bothering to extend his hand. Castiel shot him another nasty look.

“Thank you for coming,” Castiel said, through his teeth. Dean winked.

Charlie laughed, pulling her hand back and punching Castiel on the shoulder. “We’re gonna be best friends. I can tell.”

Castiel rubbed absently at his arm where Charlie punched him. “Right,” he said.

Both Dean and Charlie grinned.

“Well… I should,” Castiel jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “I should see if Meg needs anything. Her event. Very stressful. You get it.”

Dean nodded, still smug. Castiel grit his teeth.

“Find us later!” Charlie told him, again smiling.

Castiel smiled back, reflexively, even though he knew he wasn’t going to find them. He liked Charlie – it wasn’t her fault her friend was a jackass.

The concert went well and was, surprisingly, super fun. Castiel even found himself dancing good-naturedly to the country performers. He cried when the Dixie Chicks played “Landslide” and bounced his ass to “Girl in a Country Song.” 

Neither of those experiences even remotely compared to seeing Aye Nako live in front of his face but that went without saying.

In any case, he did not end up meeting with Charlie and Dean after the show. He nodded to them as they left but he was busy helping Meg break down tables at the time. Also he didn’t really want to. 

He didn't like Dean’s smug face and he didn’t like being shown up and he _ really _ didn’t like being made to look like an idiot. If he saw Charlie around campus, he might extend a friendly hand. But Dean? He would be giving that boy a wide berth.

Or, that had been his plan. Before Dean and Charlie showed up to the bookstore/coffeeshop for sex trivia and Meg had put them at Castiel’s table.

Castiel allowed himself a brief moment to shut his eyes in a bit of _ why me? _ dramatics before opening them back up and smiling at his new teammates.

Sex trivia was yet another event put on by Planned Parenthood: Donation gives you entry, you could buy a raffle ticket for a sex toy, and Meg sat up on the stage asking trivia questions about sex. A very on-brand event for Planned Parenthood.

But there was nothing country as far as the eye could see, so why the _ fuck _ was Dean there?

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to see you both here,” Castiel said, trying to keep his face and tone from being accusatory. Meg was watching him this time and if he let on that anything was amiss she would absolutely swoop in and embarrass him. “I figured you were only at the last event for the country performances.”

Charlie shook her head, smiling as brightly as Castiel had ever seen. “Nope! I’m super into supporting women’s reproductive health. Especially now! The news has been scaring the piss out of me.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “We warned them. In 2016, we warned them that the administration was going to pull this shit. Abortion should be safe and legal. Anything else and you just end up with women doing it unsafely and hurting themselves.” He shook his head, mournfully. 

He caught Dean shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

“You have a problem with abortion, Dean? Does it go against your good Kansas Christian values?”

Dean sneered right back, crossing his arms. “Hey, man, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Am I supposed to assume Charlie didn’t drag you here?” Castiel asked, raising one eyebrow. “Okay. You support abortion rights. Let me guess: you got a girl pregnant in high school and her getting an abortion is the only reason you're not married to her right now."

Castiel turned to share an eye roll with Charlie but, to his surprise, she was glaring at him heatedly.

He turned back to Dean who had his chin raised in defiance. “Actually, I have a trans friend who couldn't get the proper treatment at our normal doctor but Planned Parenthood helped him out. I owe them a lot,” he answered coolly. “Not that I have to prove anything to _ you _.”

“Yeah, man,” Charlie chimed in. “Han said you were cool. But you’ve been nothing but a dick to–”

“Wait, you know Han?” Castiel asked, surprised. Han was a regular volunteer turned intern with them. He was even score-tallying with Meg tonight.

“Yeah, Dean went to high school with him,” Charlie answered. “They even dated.”

Dean’s face flushed red. “That was a long time ago…”

“Pre-T?” Castiel guessed. Dean nodded.

While Castiel wasn’t impressed Dean corrected Charlie before anyone could assume he was less than heterosexual, he was a little shaken at this revelation.

It appeared Dean had hidden depths.

“Yeah, so we don’t need your judgement,” Charlie spat, scooting out of the booth and waiting for Dean to follow her. “We can just join another team or–”

“Is there a problem?”

Castiel briefly tensed, face souring at the thought that Meg thought she needed to come and intervene.

Not as humiliated as he was when Dean jumped to his defense, however.

“No! No, Charlie sit down.” Dean grabbed for Charlie’s arm and bodily pulled her back into the booth. “Nah, I’m sorry. My friend was overreacting. We’re fine.”

Meg looked them all over, shrewdly, her arm coming up around Castiel’s shoulders.

“So my boy isn’t doing anything to make you feel unwelcome?” she asked, running her hand up to smooth over Castiel’s hair. “He doesn’t try to be off-putting, that’s just his natural state.”

Castiel could feel his ears heat up. He hung his head to hide any other blushing that could show on his face. “Meg.”

“No, he’s fine, really.” Castiel scowled down at his lap, hearing the smirk in Dean’s voice. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

Meg laughed, bringing her other hand to clap Castiel’s shoulder before releasing him completely. “Glad to hear it! He needs more friends.”

“_ Meg. _”

She laughed again, shoving him lightly on the shoulder before sauntering away, presumably to check on the other teams.

Castiel glanced up at his new teammates across the table. Charlie was back to smiling, if a little more satisfied than the easy grin from before. It seemed like she thought Meg coming over here to embarrass him was punishment enough for his rudeness.

Dean was grinning full out, something undefinable sparkling in his eyes. Castiel was horrified to notice that he looked good even without the cowboy hat. His hair was a bristly sandy color that really suited his face. And without the shadow of the brim, Castiel could see his freckles. 

This was a nightmare.

“Your stars are different,” Dean said, apropos of nothing. He gestured at his eyes as if Castiel wouldn’t know what he was talking about. “You only had one on this eye last time.”

“I change them every day,” Castiel answered, surprised Dean had even noticed.

Dean nodded agreeably. His massive grin had melted to a kind of contented smile. “Cool. I thought they were tattoos or something.”

“No, just makeup.” Castiel pumped his fist weakly. “Free expression and all that.”

Dean nodded again. “Nice.”

Castiel nodded back, unsure where to go from there.

Charlie rested her chin in her hand, looking back and forth between Dean and Castiel as if enthralled.

“I do have a tattoo, though,” Castiel said just to say _ something _. “On my back.”

Dean’s eyes widened, his smile brightening a bit. “Yeah?”

Castiel nodded, turning around in his seat and reaching behind him to pull the oversized sleeve hole so Dean could see some of it. He was back in an oversized muscle tee, this one with cutouts in the back in the shape of a skull. It was homemade.

Even without Castiel’s help, parts of the tattoo were visible. Edges of the tattoo peeked out around his ribs and over his shoulders, the tips coming out of his collar onto his neck.

It was abstract: commissioned from an artist in town to suit Castiel. An original creation. Parts were discernible – some feathers, a bee hive, Beyonce lyrics – but the whole piece wasn’t really something you could appreciate until you knew Castiel himself.

Castiel could hear Dean hum to himself as he looked at it. It made him blush for no reason he could distinguish.

He cleared his throat. “What about you?” he asked, turning back around. “Either of you have tattoos?”

Charlie nodded, her carefree smile coming back by degrees. She held up her wrist to show off a black and orange starbird insignia from Star Wars. “Rebel scum forever, bitch.”

Castiel smiled, reaching out a hand to give her a fist bump. She enthusiastically and almost violently accepted.

“Dean’s got one too but his isn’t as cool,” Charlie continued, shoving a teasing elbow into Dean’s ribs.

He swatted at her, his nose crinkled in fake annoyance. “Shut up, it’s definitely still cool.” He looked back at Castiel, rolling his eyes at his friend. It was odd for Castiel to be in on the joke so quickly when so recently they were united against him. “It’s going to be a matching tattoo with my brother when he turns 18. But until then, it does kind of make me look like a Satanist.”

Castiel laughed, having to physically bite back a snarky comment about being a good Kansas Christian again. Instead, he just said, “I didn’t take you to be one for the occult.”

Dean smirked, probably hearing what Castiel hadn’t said. “I’m not. Not really. My brother’s really into religious studies and it’s supposed to be a protection sigil.” Dean unbuttoned the top buttons of his flannel and pulled the collar to the side, exposing the top of his left pec. “Tell me that doesn’t look a little demonic.”

Castiel could not tell Dean that. It did look slightly demonic – a pentagram surrounded by a sunflare. More than that though, Castiel had to swallow down all the thoughts he was feeling about seeing the expanse of skin and freckles that was Dean’s chest.

“It could be worse,” he answered, getting back on target. “But if you don’t like it why did you get it?”

Dean shrugged, dropping his collar back into place. He left the top buttons unbuttoned, leaving Castiel with teases of collarbone. Bastard.

“I could take or leave it,” Dean answered. “It didn’t really matter what Sammy picked – I told him I would get a tattoo for him before I left for school so I was gonna do it no matter what.”

Castiel fought very very hard not to melt at that. As a younger brother himself, hearing an older sibling have that kind of dedication really did something to him.

God, there was a lot going on. Castiel needed a distraction.

Coming to his rescue, as she so often did, Meg got up on stage to announce the beginning of trivia.

“My sweet baby Han is coming around to all the teams to hand out your trivia sheet. Teams can be up to four people or only one person if you’re feeling tough. Make sure you give your team a name so I’m not bored while judging them.”

Han approached their table, smiling at all of them in turn. He blushed a little when he and Dean made eye contact and Dean was a little pink around the ears as well.

The rabid curiosity Castiel had for their relationship was a little shocking. He wanted all the answers. Needed details right now, immediately.

But there was no way in hell he was asking Dean. He would grill Han later.

Han dropped off the trivia sheet and made his way to the next table. Castiel forced his confusing feelings to the side, pulling the sheet toward him.

“Okay, so team name?”

“Ooh!” Charlie said. “Porntroopers!”

Castiel snorted, moving to write it down.

“Wait,” Dean said. “What about ‘Queers for Fears’?”

“Oooh,” Charlie said again, but this time like she was impressed. “Solid, punning, bestie of mine.”

“And solid music reference,” Castiel said, also impressed. “Isn’t that a little alternative for you?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’ve really gotta stop pigeonholing me, man. I can’t be pegged.”

“Bet you can,” Castiel said, without thinking.

Charlie choked, bringing a hand to her mouth. Castiel smirked even as his ears were turning red. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but the look on Dean’s face was absolutely worth it.

“Any objections to ‘Queers for Fears’ being our team name? No? So it shall be.”

He wrote it down, focusing on keeping his letters nice and neat. He wondered why Dean had gone for a queer-centric pun when he was so obviously straight – just look at his reaction when it was suggested he and Han had dated post-T. He was probably just trying to make nice with Castiel or else he was just a very good best friend to Charlie.

In any case, the name ‘Queers for Fears’ definitely made Meg snort with laughter when she read it.

“Hello, ladies, men, and nonbinary friends, and welcome to sex trivia with Planned Parenthood!” Hoots and hollers from the assembled crowd. “You can still buy raffle tickets for our _ killer _ vibrators in the back with my lovely intern, Han. But, for now, let’s get started with some trivia! First round is all about politics.”

Meg proceeded to list off easy to mid-level questions involving women and gays in the current political climate. Well, they were easy to mid-level for Castiel who lived and breathed liberal drama, but he saw some teams struggling a bit. It validated as much as it disappointed him.

Charlie was, of course, right there with him, nailing all the questions with women: the highest number of women that have ever served in the House of Representatives at one time (102), and listing the names of all the female Presidential candidates for 2020. Castiel came in with some of the more obscure facts like the former president who had a nickname for his penis in the form of ‘Jumbo’ (Lyndon B. Johnson) and the woman who first voted against the war in Afghanistan (Barbara Lee). But it was Dean who surprised him most. Not only because he knew the first openly bisexual person to be elected to the senate (Kristin Sinema) but he also knew the two brands of condoms that were made by Union workers.

“Trojan and Durex,” he whispered, careful to keep the other teams from hearing.

Castiel looked at him, unable to keep the shock from his face. “How could you _ possibly _ know that?”

Dean frowned, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Cas, are you still on this? You know half of country music is about unions and shit. Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ is right fucking there.”

Castiel frowned back, half at the overly-familiar nickname and half at the rest of his statement. That was close to what Meg had said when she organized the benefit concert in the first place.

But still…

“So, what, when your dad gave you The Talk, he made sure you only used Union-made condoms?”

Dean looked him in the eye and said, “My dad died when I was nine,” completely without flinching.

Castiel did flinch.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, brushing him off completely. “Let’s just check back over our answers.”

They did, Charlie intermittently looking at Castiel like she was trying to figure out just what his problem was. Castiel wished even he knew what his problem was at this point, honestly.

Charlie ran their answers up and Castiel snuck outside while the first round was scored. He didn’t smoke but he stood with the smokers, pretending like he was trying to bum a cig, but actually just hiding from his team.

He kept fucking up. He owed it to Meg to be more accepting of new people showing interest in their org. He owed it to himself to not be so shitty to people who were different from him.

He went back inside with a new state of mind. He was going to be friendly, dammit.

It helped that the next category was pop culture which meant he was _ completely _dependant on his teammates for their answers.

He knew _ Paris is Burning _ was the documentary about the drag scene in 1980s New York – know your history and all that – but beyond that he was lost.

Luckily, Dean and Charlie didn’t come to fuck around.

“This 90s TV show was one of the first to feature a lesbian relationship.”

Charlie snatched the pencil out of his hand and wrote ‘_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ _ so fast it smudged.

“Name the 1972 pornographic movie that was one of the first of its kind to feature plot, character development, and relatively high production values. Its title was famously used as a code name for a leaker during the Watergate scandal.”

Dean reached for the pencil and wrote _ ‘Deep Throat’ _ snickering all the while.

“In what 1989 movie did Meg Ryan famously fake an orgasm to prove to her friend that women would often fake orgasms with their partners?”

Charlie wrote ‘_ When Harry Met Sally’ _ almost solemnly, commenting to Castiel that, “That scene is very illuminating for young lesbians everywhere.”

“Which well-known entertainer reportedly has her breasts insured for $600,000?”

Dean wrote _ ‘Dolly Parton,’ _ expressing loudly that it’s worth every penny.

“What classic American sci-fi television show featured the first interracial kiss on television?”

Dean and Charlie wrestled over the pencil, both desperate to be the one who wrote _ ‘Star Trek: The Original Series’ _.

Castiel was very grateful to them, even while he shook his head. He was almost proud when none of them could name the main character of the _ Fifty Shades of Grey _ novels.

He stayed at the table during scoring for that round, listening in amusement as Dean and Charlie tried to catch him up on all of the entertainment he’d been missing out on. 

It was easier to be around them like this. There was no dignity in explaining why, while The Original Series had the objectively better writing, Captain Picard was definitely the better captain. Castiel could pretend they’d met only an hour ago at the beginning of the night instead of Dean making a fool out of him weeks before. Dean was just a giant nerd.

The next category was ‘Horny Literature,’ which meant it was Castiel’s time to shine.

Meg read out excerpts from famous pieces of literature and poetry detailing sexual acts and Castiel had to name the work and the author.

It was embarrassingly easy. He almost didn’t get the quote from Stephenie Meyer’s _ Breaking Dawn _ , having never read the _ Twilight _ books, but he had enough peripheral knowledge of the series that the contemporary language and use of the name ‘Esme’ tipped him off.

When Meg was announcing the scores at the end of round three, he was gratified to hear that their team was the only one to get 100% on that round.

“Damn, Cas,” Charlie said, punching him on the arm. “You horny bastard! How much erotica do you read?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, his face heating up. “Growing up in a heavily Christian household, the history and evolution of immodest literature become something of a special interest.”

Dean snorted. Castiel shot him a glare without any heat.

“_ Suuuure _,” Charlie said, looking between them. “I still think you’re a kinky son of a bitch.”

Castiel let out a surprised chuckle. “I assure you it’s not that.”

Unfortunately for Castiel, the next round was almost designed to make him look like a liar.

It was titled ‘All Kink All The Time,’ and Castiel knew every answer.

What’s another name for sexual peeing? Water sports. What comes after a BDSM scene? Aftercare. What do you call someone who likes to top and bottom? Vers. What’s the BDSM mantra? Safe, sane, consensual. What does BDSM stand for? Bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism. What’s it called when you don’t let yourself orgasm? Edging. Arousal to eating another’s body parts? Vore. Getting off on your partner getting off with someone else? Cuckolding. He could identify the sex position as reverse cowgirl and knew the most common sexual fantasy in the US was to participate in an orgy.

Despite what Castiel had said, it was looking very much like he was a secret kink hound.

“I just read a lot!” Castiel explained, his face hotter than he’d ever felt. “Also, I work with these people. Meg is very close to me. You think _ she _ doesn’t talk about this stuff?”

Charlie was nodding very exaggeratedly, her lips firmly between her teeth to stave off laughter.

Dean’s face was almost as red as Castiel’s but he was grinning. It made something heavy sit low in Castiel’s stomach.

After Meg had announced the scores and Han had re-distributed the scoring sheets for the last round, Meg got to business.

“Alright, comrades: time for the real shit. The next and final category is just straight sex statistics. Well, not _ ‘straight’ _ sex. Ew, can you imagine?” She shuddered dramatically, receiving appreciative laughs from the crowd. “But this stuff is Planned Parenthood’s bread and butter. So ready your butts.”

Castiel was humiliatingly terrible with this category.

“Why are you so bad at this?” Dean hissed after they’d already submitted everything and Meg was reading off the correct answers. “This is supposed to be Planned Parenthood’s bread and butter!”

“It is!” Castiel hissed back. “I’m just really shitty with statistics! I end up skewing toward the optimistic.”

“You think _ less _ than 68% of women have faked an orgasm?” Charlie asked, snorting. “I was positive it was more.”

Castiel shuffled in his seat, grumpily. “Excuse me for hoping that women can own their own sexuality.”

Charlie softened a bit, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “That is so sweet. I hope that too.” And she leaned back spreading her arms. “But I’m a realist. So I’m glad we went with my number. She said she’d take within 5%, so 72% counts as correct.”

Castiel grumbled again, glad that even if he was terrible at national averages, at least his team was successful.

They didn’t end up winning but they did come in second place which came with its own reward – that reward being free Planned Parenthood t-shirts, of which Castiel already had an upsetting amount.

“Cheer up, Clarence!” Meg told him, brining her arm up around his shoulder, only able to reach because she was still standing on the slightly elevated stage. “At least you made some friends.”

Castiel glared at her, fully anticipating her next move.

He was proven correct when she leaned around him to address Charlie and Dean directly. “Would you both mind walking him home? I was his ride and I’ve got some things I need to sort out before I leave.”

“Sure!” Charlie answered faster than Castiel or Dean could object. “Where do you live?”

Castiel sighed but rattled off his address.

She winced. “Ooh, I’m like four blocks in the opposite direction. But that’s on Dean’s way home!” She turned to Dean, smirking. “Dean?”

They had some kind of silent conversation, both of their faces moving through dozens of microexpressions before, sighing, Dean said, “Yeah, Cas, I can walk with you.”

“Fabulous!” Meg said grinning, she leaned up to kiss the side of Castiel’s head and then shoved at his shoulder. “Put on your jacket, it’s gotten chilly.”

“Yes, Mom,” Castiel said, shittily.

Meg smirked. “Ooh, talk to me nice.”

Castiel blushed and Dean and Charlie laughed, again united in making fun of him.

They walked together for a while, making the same idle conversation that had occupied them during trivia scoring, until Charlie had to break off to go to her own place. Only when Castiel and Dean were left in silence did both of them realize it had been Charlie carrying most of the conversation on her own.

Castiel looked painfully forward, marking the route he had left to his apartment in his head. It was another six minutes of walking at least.

Dean seemed to realize this at the same time because he opened his mouth and started chattering, nervously.

The direction he started caught Castiel completely off guard.

“I’ve been meaning to say I’m sorry,” he said, eyes very firmly on the sidewalk. “For chewing you out at that concert. I mean, you were definitely being an asshole,” he smirked, “but I’m usually not… I’m usually better at keeping my attitude in check.”

Castiel shrugged, surprised at the apology but more surprised by how little he needed it. “I deserved the attitude. You’re right, I was being an asshole.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can blame you.” Dean snorted. “If _ I’ve _gotten in fights with bigots who dress like me, I can only imagine the shit you’ve gone through.” 

Dean jerked back, his eyes widening. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the way you look. Or dress. Or anything. I mean–” he gestured helplessly at Castiel. “Obviously. But like, it’s not like you pass? Or that you’d want to? Or, I mean–”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted, his expression softer than he meant it. “It’s fine. I knew what you meant.” He gestured down his body. “I do invite conflict. That’s, like, my whole brand.”

Dean’s eyes lingered on him on the way back up. Castiel tried not to look too deeply at it Or think about what Dean had meant by ‘obviously’.

“Well, my point was I could have been more understanding,” Dean said, his gaze landing on Castiel’s face for a few seconds before he dropped back to the sidewalk. “Charlie’s always on me about that.”

Castiel grinned. “I like her.”

“Yeah, it’s hard not to.” Dean grinned back, hands stuffed deep into his jeans pockets. Castiel didn’t have pants pockets – he’d worn his galaxy leggings that day. “I owe her a lot.”

There was something heavy in the way Dean said that. Castiel wanted to know more.

But this was still very fresh – fragile. 

Castiel changed the subject.

“I actually did like some of the country music at the concert that day,” he said, shocking Dean into looking at him again. “‘Landslide’ always serves to make me emotional.”

“Yeah you’re not alone there,” Dean chuckled. “Wow, isn’t that a little mainstream for you?”

Castiel gently nudged Dean’s shoulder with his own where they were walking side by side. Dean grinned and nudged him back.

They arrived at Castiel’s building, Dean walking him right to the door.

“I’m glad we could do this tonight,” he said, making full eye contact with Castiel for the first time since they’d left trivia. “I’m glad we didn’t leave off after that first meeting.”

Castiel chuckled, nodding along. “I’m glad Charlie dragged you out tonight.”

Dean chuckled back, but shook his head. “She didn’t drag me out.”

Castiel tilted his head in question, ready to ask what Dean meant by that.

He was cut off when Dean leaned in and kissed him.

It was just a soft press of lips – barely ten seconds of contact – before Dean was pulling away.

Castiel was frozen. He hadn’t even had time to close his eyes.

Dean smiled softly at him, his eyes a little sad. “See you around, Cas.”

Castiel was still frozen. Dean was turning to walk away.

Castiel could move again. He wanted answers. He wanted to know just what the hell that was. He wanted to kiss Dean again.

He turned around and let himself into his building, not stopping until he was locked in his own room.

Castiel was having a panic.

Not an earth shattering panic – he’d had worse panics – but it was enough of a panic that it distracted him from everything else he was supposed to be doing. It was a very distracting panic. A distracting and _ distressing _ panic.

A mildly warm and fuzzy panic when he flashed back to those ten seconds of Dean’s lips on his.

But then back to a frantic and frustrated panic because _ what the actual hell was that?! _

Part one of the panic stemmed from the first hurdle Castiel had to jump whenever entertaining romantic musings, which was that he was asexual. He was an asexual human being. Which he knew meant didn’t disqualify him from any and all future relationships but that other people did _ not _ know, if they even knew what asexuality was to begin with.

And even if Dean _ did _ know what asexuality was, there was no way he knew Castiel was asexual because Castiel had just gotten 100 per-fucking-cent on kink trivia. So Dean had decided to kiss him not only thinking Castiel was allosexual, but that Castiel was well-versed in ALL THE KINKS.

Not that Castiel was sex-averse. Or, was he? He didn’t mind talking about it or listening to others talk about it but he’d never been in a situation where he could test for himself. He’d never _ wanted _ to test for himself. What if he was sex-averse and Dean were to invest all of this time in him with neither of them knowing that and then Dean were to break up with him even after Castiel had become emotionally invested in him because not having sex isn’t something he can get over?

But – hang on – why would Dean be trying to have sex with Castiel anyway? Castiel was a man. He was very firmly male. His form of dress was mildly androgynous but there was no mistaking his jawline, his voice, or his pronouns, which he’d definitely been wearing on his nametag. Part two of the panic was that Dean was straight. Or, Castiel had assumed he was straight...

List of reasons why Dean was straight:

  1. He dressed like a fucking lumberjack.
  2. He liked country music.
  3. He made sure to tell everyone he’d dated Han _pre-_T.
  4. He commented approvingly on Dolly Parton’s breasts.
  5. Castiel’s luck just wasn’t that good.

Because, yes, he found Dean attractive. And charming and smart and funny and he had soft lips and _ fuck _.

Lists of reasons why Dean maybe _ wasn’t _ straight:

  1. He came up with their queer-centric team name.
  2. He could name the first openly bisexual senator.
  3. He was best friends with Charlie.
  4. He’d been caught Looking at Castiel.
  5. He’d kissed Castiel.

But what if he’d been experimenting? Or what if he just got caught up in the moment? Or what if he did it on a dare?

No, wait, Dean wouldn’t do that. He’d worked hard to convince Castiel he wasn’t the heartless country-loving douchebag Castiel had originally assumed he was – Castiel wouldn’t discredit that to think Dean would mess with someone’s emotions on a dare.

And wasn’t Castiel just _ assuming _ things the problem to begin with? Hadn’t Castiel assuming things about Dean started this whole mess? Why should Castiel assume Dean was straight?

These thoughts swirled and swarmed in Castiel’s head all night. All week.

They picked and poked at him right up until he saw Dean again.

Nothing quite brings people together like a “Fuck Donald Trump” protest.

That wasn’t officially what the protest was called but they all knew why they were really there, Meg leading the way at the front with a black, studded megaphone. No one was under any delusion that the blumbering orange fascist hadn’t left scars upon their country and on the scores of minorities the administration affected.

Sometimes it was good to just come out and scream, _ “Donald Trump! Go away! Racist, sexist, anti-gay!” _ at the top of your lungs surrounded by hundreds of people yelling the same thing.

It’s a good distraction until the very person you need distracting from approaches with his lesbian best friend and a dog.

On the bright side, the dog then becomes a distraction.

“Hello!” Castiel smiled down at the dog, crouching and holding a hand out for the dog to sniff. The dog did so, licking at Castiel’s fingers. Castiel melted. “Hello you beautiful boy.” Castiel continued, scrubbing the dog’s ears as he thrashed his tail wildly. “What a credit you are to your species, standing for democracy. You are an excellent public servant.”

“Yeah, he gets it from his mom,” Charlie said with a smirk.

Castiel grinned back. “He’s doing a great job.”

Dean coughed. Castiel tensed, just a little bit.

Charlie laughed. “Right, well I’m going to go stand with the lesbians and yell about pussy grabbing. Good luck.”

She winked at Dean and clicked away.

Castiel mourned his brief distraction and also the fact that he would likely never see that dog again after whatever fuckery was about to go down with Dean.

Speaking of… “Hello, Dean.”

Dean was looking mighty sheepish. “Hey, Cas.”

There was only a beat of silence before Castiel got unexpectedly and ferociously _ pissed. _

“So, what the hell was that kiss?” he started, probably more aggressive than he should have been. “What had I done up to that point to make you think that would be okay?”

In truth, if Castiel was being honest, it _ had _ been mostly okay. But he was so relieved to have a definable emotion about the event he didn’t stop to think about nuances.

Dean seemed taken aback by Castiel’s sudden rage. “Was it not okay?”

“Is it not okay to kiss someone without their consent? No, Dean, it’s not!”

Dean held up his hands, abstaining, but getting a little pissed himself. “Okay, I’m sorry! I know it’s not consent unless you say yes but you were sending me some signals! I thought–”

Castiel snorted, stepping closer to Dean so they could hear each other over the chanting of the protest. “I don’t know what ‘signals’ you thought you were getting, but I’m not down for being some straight boy’s college experiment.”

“What the fuck? I’m not straight!”

Now Castiel was taken aback. “What?”

“Yeah, dude, fuck. A guy kisses you and you assume he’s straight? What made you think I was straight?”

“Well…” Castiel started, gesturing kind of vaguely at Dean’s general look and attitude. He was, again, wearing jeans, timberlands, and a flannel. “And you talked about Dolly Parton! And told me you dated Han pre-T!”

“Yeah, so you’d know it wasn’t recent! I wanted you to know I was single, dude! And Dolly Parton’s boobs are objectively fantastic, that’s not a straight guy thing.”

Castiel shook his head, trying to process all this new information. “You wanted me to know you were single?”

Dean flushed, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. It was only then that Castiel noticed the flannel Dean was wearing was in the colors of the bisexual flag.

“Yeah, man. I know we butted heads but I really dig your passion. And you know a lot about so much and you’re cool to talk to and hot as fuck.” He shrugged. “I’m a simple guy. I know what I want.”

“I’m asexual,” Castiel blurted, unwilling to let this go any further if that was going to be a problem. “I’m not sure if you think I’m some kind of sexual deviant from trivia the other day but I’m… not. I’ve never had sex. I’m not sure I’d ever want to have sex. I have no desire for it but–” Castiel looked down, unwilling to make eye contact for this next bit. “I’ve always thought I’d be willing to do it if my partner wanted to. But I’ve never tried so I don’t know and I just wanted to…” He glanced back up, wary. “Put that out there.”

Dean was frowning. Castiel held his breath.

_ Please don’t ask me to explain asexuality. Please don’t be one of those exclusionists in the community _.

“Is that why kissing you wasn’t okay?” Dean asked, finally. “I shouldn’t have done it anyway but I _ really _ wouldn’t have done it if I knew you didn’t like kissing.”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to blush. “No, kissing is… fine.” He cleared his throat. “Good. It was good. My problem was mostly that a) I thought you hated me, and b) I thought you were straight.”

Dean grinned, stepping toward Castiel again. The chanting had gotten louder and their voices had gotten softer. “Well, I’m not straight and I don’t hate you. Yeah, you’re an asshole, but I’m kinda into it.”

Castiel bit back his own grin. “You’re an asshole, too,” he argued.

“But you like it?” Dean asked, only the slightest insecurity creeping in.

Castiel nodded, bringing a hand up Dean’s waist.

Dean’s grin widened. “Kissing’s okay?”

Castiel did smile at that. “Kissing’s great.”

Dean bounced on his toes a bit before leaning in and cupping Castiel’s face in his hands, bringing their mouths together in a kiss.

Without the surprise and anxiety and insecurity of where Dean was coming from and where they were going, it really was one of the best kisses Castiel had had.

He still didn’t know where they were going but he wasn’t as afraid to find out.

Dean pulled away, nosing at Castiel’s cheekbone, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Can I actually have your number now so you don’t leave me in suspense for a week? You could give a guy a complex like that, Cas.”

“Yes, you nerd,” Castiel said, leaning up to kiss Dean again.

Dean hummed into it before pulling away again. “This is a lot of PDA, right? Is that a sex positive thing from Planned Parenthood? Is this a social commentary?”

“Shut the fuck _ up _,” Castiel said, grabbing the back of Dean’s head and pulling him back. Dean laughed against his lips but melted into it, draping his arms against Castiel’s shoulders and swaying with him.

They continued like that, lazily and exploringly making out, as the chant of _ “Love! Not Hate! Makes America Great!” _ rang out around them.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Are y'all ready for this? Because a lot of what was referenced in this fic is 100% real.
> 
> [Welsh Miners standing in solidarity with LGBT activists](https://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/aug/31/pride-film-gay-activists-miners-strike-interview), and yes I have a friend who is the organizer of my local planned parenthood and cries every time she talks about it.
> 
> That same friend orchestrated [sex trivia](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1K5-kDsxlYBfZQ-PYDLRf23c6O6HUMs0FUkQXX-TaRgU/edit?usp=sharing), which I attended and was dismal at, except for the kink section because fanfiction.
> 
> Also, all the musical scandals and details from the ["Fuck Donald Trump" protests](https://www.facebook.com/LilMagg/videos/10154324581395954/) are 100% true. Not that I need to tell you about the protests.... my American friends know what I'm talking about!
> 
> Title was a reference to [this Donny & Marie classic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k60n61zFrms) that, full offense, kind of still whips.
> 
> My artist was [Tiki](https://www.instagram.com/tiki.art/) and... oh my God.... so cute.... [could you die](https://tiki-art.livejournal.com/499.html)?
> 
> My beta, [DarcyDelaney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney), brought such amazing energy I was in love. I thank you.
> 
> And, as always, I am [saywhatjessie](saywhatjessie.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you can reblog this fic [here](https://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/post/187457901650/asexual-supernatural-minibang-2019-hes-a-little) or the official Ace SPN Mini Bang post [here.](https://acespnminibang.tumblr.com/post/187468538351/title-hes-a-little-bit-country)


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